


For the Discriminating Alpha

by alexxphoenix42



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Discussion of mpreg, Drugging, Gender Issues, Happy Ending, Heats, Infidelity mentioned, John is a porn star, John is an Omega, Knotting, M/M, Misunderstandings, No mpreg, Omegaverse, Porn sites, Scent Kink, Sherlock is an Alpha, Tender sappy rough sex, The usual splish splash of Omegaverse, past mentions of rape, slight dubcon, some case fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexxphoenix42/pseuds/alexxphoenix42
Summary: When Sherlock agrees to take on the owner of a porn site featuring male Omegas as a client, it only makes sense he click through the website for research. Sherlock was absolutely not expecting to find one of the porn stars so utterly riveting. Relationships, heats, bonding, meh - it's just not his area.





	For the Discriminating Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> I have loved so many stories set in the Omegaverse, I decided to try my hand at a full-length Johnlock tale in the O-verse. This story isn't Brit Picked and all mistakes are my own. Hope you enjoy!

~~ @ ~~

 

Sherlock clicked on the link, peering more closely at his laptop as the video started. The Omega on the screen lay stretched across a bed in a room with long, billowing curtains in the background, naked save for the dark-coloured sheet twisted artfully over his groin.

“Hey, baby, how are you?” His smile was open and friendly. “Hard day at work?”

He wasn’t the usual sort of male Omega one generally found on upscale porn sites, not some sweet, young thing preening for the camera. No, this man was older, almost middle-aged with a network of fine lines crinkling at his eyes when he smiled.

“Come on, luv, come lie down with me. Take a break. You deserve it after the day you’ve had.” 

He gestured to the bed beside him, and the camera swung closer, zooming in until the Omega filled the screen from the hips up. His blond hair fell gently over his forehead, and his deep blue eyes that matched the sheets so nicely bore right into the camera, right into Sherlock’s soul.

“Do you want to watch, sweet?” A mischievous look danced across his face as his lips tipped to one side.

Sherlock’s gaze locked on to the man’s fingers as he stroked lightly over his belly, teasing at the path of light brown hair that disappeared tantalizingly under the sheet pooling over him.

“Mmm.” His hand dipped below the fabric, palming at himself as he closed his eyes with a sigh.

The camera zoomed back out to include his entire torso as the sheet shifted slightly. Sherlock leaned in, hoping to see more, but the sheet remained stubbornly in place as the man pleasured himself, his hand working leisurely under the cloth.

“Do you want to see more, baby?” The man’s eyes had gone to liquid heat as he looked back into the camera. “I want you to. You’ll need to be a member to stay with me. Please do . . . I’m waiting for you.”

The words, _British Omega Male Hotties . . . For the Discriminating Alpha,_ appeared across the screen along with a button to become a member.

Sherlock couldn’t get his credit card out fast enough. He typed in the number to join the site for the reduced-rate, trial-month offer. As soon as the technicalities were out of the way, Sherlock was searching for the blond Omega. His profile listed him as Johnny101, and Sherlock eagerly clicked on the thumbnail pic showing him on the navy-sheeted bed.

“Hey, babe, I’m so glad you’re here.” Johnny’s smile lit up his whole face. “I’ve been lonely without you. God, I’ve been waiting for you to get home.”

Both of the Omega’s hands lifted to stroke over his bare chest and belly. He wasn’t overly muscled, nor was he too soft. Sherlock knew some liked their Omegas round and squishy like a sticky bun, but he preferred a more moderate shape, solid, and compact.

“Mmmm. You smell good.” Johnny’s eyes slid shut again as he reached his nipples, lightly running the pads of his fingertips over them. “Were you thinking of me today? I was thinking of you.”

As the small brown nubs hardened, and peaked to attention, he caught them between thumb and forefinger to gently squeeze.

“I want you to touch me, remind me that I’m yours.” The Omega’s words came out in a breathy rush.

Sherlock swallowed, feeling the heat pooling low in his groin.

“Would you touch me? Touch me all over?”

One of the Omega’s hands drifted lower, (ah, a leftie) ghosting over his belly until he reached the sheet. This time he pushed the fabric aside, rucking it down until his small Omega cock, just starting to thicken, jutted out. Sherlock could feel his own cock swelling in response, pushing against his fitted trousers.

“Mmmm, I’d love your hands on me. I’m going to pretend, this is you touching me.” Johnny ran one hand over his sweet little erection, while another remained to fondle his chest, rubbing and pinching harder at his nipples. A flush spread beautifully over his body, turning his golden skin peachy. It contrasted so nicely with the dark sheet under him that Sherlock was certain it had been selected specifically.

“God, I’m getting so wet, so wet for you,” Johnny moaned, biting at his lower lip.

Sherlock found himself growing unbearably hard. He unzipped his flies, pushing his clothing aside to ease the pressure on his straining erection. He sighed as his big Alpha cock sprang free.

“Unngh, I need you,” the Omega panted on screen. “I need your cock in me. I’m so empty without you.”

Johnny pushed the sheet down further, bending his knees to bring his bottom into full view of the camera.  His entrance was blood-engorged, and open, a single drip of lubricant trickling down to slide into the crack of his arse. Sherlock closed his hand around his erection, hissing at how good it felt when he tugged at his shaft.

“Mmm, I need it,” Johnny moaned, trailing a hand down to rub a finger into his slick.

The shiny liquid increased, pooling up as he stroked around his entrance until a veritable cascade tipped over, streaming down his arse and thighs to stain the sheet darker beneath him. John shuddered, and plunged two fingers into himself.

In an instant, Sherlock had popped up from the kitchen table where he’d been sitting to move toward his bedroom. His eyes remained glued to his laptop as he stumbled to his bed, groping in the bedside table for a tube of lubricant he kept there.  Sherlock drank in the sight of the writhing Omega pistoning several fingers into his sopping wet hole as he shucked his pants and trousers to lay down on his bed.

“Oh, God, please. Fuck me, please.” The Omega had thrown back his head, the tendons standing out in his neck as he desperately ground his fingers into himself.

It obviously wasn’t enough to fill the need of his gaping hole, and he soon reached off camera to return with a truly enormous dildo in hand. It was made to approximate an alpha erection as closely as possible, complete with ropy veins and a slight bulge at its base. Sherlock knew that only an Omega in full-blown heat could take a true knot, but the swelling at the base of the toy was very suggestive. Sherlock squirted a glob of lube into his palm, and slicked it over his own cock. It was cold, but warmed quickly as he moved his hand. The slick was nowhere near as fragrant as an Omega’s natural fluids would be, but it provided the necessary slide all the same.

“God, baby, please, fill me up, please.”

The Omega jammed the silicon erection into himself, groaning as it sank half-way into his greedy hole.  When it reappeared, it was shiny and wet, slick with his juices. Sherlock couldn’t help groaning too.

“Baby, God, YES, need you so much!” Johnny crooned.

Sherlock imagined the smell and the slide of the Omega’s slick coating his own cock as Johnny worked the toy deeper into himself.

“God, baby, yes, _take_ me."

The camera moved to focus on the dildo’s progress. Sherlock watched entranced as the huge toy sank almost to the small knot, filling the Omega, stretching his hole even wider.

“You feel soooo good!”

The Omega’s wrist twisted as he worked the toy back and forth. Sherlock matched the rhythm of his curled fist moving over his cock to the hypnotic slide of the dildo. In and out, up and down.

When the camera left its close up, drawing back to take in more of the Omega’s body, Sherlock almost growled in outrage. Still the view of the man arching his back as his hand worked between his legs had its own charms.

“God, honey, yes, hold me down. I love to feel your big strong Alpha body as you fuck me. Yeeessss.”

The camera moved in again, almost lovingly, zooming in to the Omega’s face. Johnny looked enraptured, eyes closed, biting at his lower lip as he moaned deeply.

“Oh, God, luv. Do you want to bite me? Sink your teeth into me?” Johnny threw his head to the side, panting into the sheets, exposing the long line of his neck and the enticing slope of his shoulder.  “I could be yours forever.”

He was quite fit, with a nice curve to his bicep. The shorter hairs on the back of his neck tapered to a point above a nape that was completely free of any marks. Unbonded Omega, open for the taking. Even though Sherlock knew it was an all just an act, just for show, he felt his mouth salivating anyway. He stepped up the speed of his fist on his penis.

 The shot widened out, moving back to show the Omega’s hand and bottom as he eased the rest of the dildo into himself. Johnny’s face contorted into a grimace of pleasure/pain as he pushed the knot at the base inside.

“God, YES. Fill me with your knot, make me take it, take it all. Uuuuhhnn.”

Sherlock groaned deep and full, something from the bottom of his gut upward.

Johnny reached down to swipe his free hand through his freely-flowing lubricant and used it to coat his erection. He tugged expertly at his cock as the dildo plunged in and out below.

“God, fuck me so hard I can’t stand up later! I want to feel you for days, remember your big cock inside me!”

The Omega moved his hand to caress across his stomach, leaving glistening trails of wet over his skin and the thin line of fur that pointed to the thatch around his shaft.  Sherlock swallowed, wanting desperately to sink his hands, and his mouth, and his cock into this lovely, ripe Omega. He almost felt as though he could smell him, the sweet luscious scent of him in his nostrils.

“Come fill me up, till I’m bursting with your spunk, till my belly is full of it.” He pressed down on his stomach as if he were truly feeling it swell with an Alpha’s copious release.

“God, yes,” Sherlock gasped aloud.

Johnny went back to tugging at his lovely, rosy-red cock as he pumped the toy into his hole, pulling it almost completely out only to slam it back home. He increased the speed, in and out, tugging, pushing, crying out at each thrust.

Sherlock sped up as the Omega did, feeling his balls already beginning to tighten.

“Oh God, fill me up with your pups, luv,” Johnny gritted out between his teeth. “Fill me up until I’m so heavy I can’t walk, my tits, huge and bursting with milk, belly round and full of your babies, swaying . . .”

With a cry, Sherlock came, pumping his release over his hand. On screen, the Omega reached his climax as well, his small cock spurting a thin, clear fluid as he twitched and jerked around the dildo. Johnny sighed as the tremors stilled, his face finally soft and peaceful.

“Oh, God, baby, thank you. Thank you, so much.” The Omega kept his eyes closed as he reached down to scoop up some of his fluids, licking it off his fingers. “Mmmm, sweetheart, it tastes so good, tastes like us.”

Sherlock panted, catching his breath. He wanted the Omega to open his eyes, wanted desperately to see those bright, ocean-blue depths staring back at him again, but the image shifted to the curtains in the background as the clip ended. Damn.

Sherlock almost replayed the video, but a repeat would have taken away the magic that Johnny was talking to him alone, really welcoming him home at the end of a day. A further scan of the _British Omega Male Hotties_ website showed him that Johnny was very popular with quite a number of other videos to his name. Sherlock sighed and closed his laptop, swinging his legs off the bed to head to the shower. He chided himself as he switched on the water. He hadn’t meant to get so personally involved with the porn site.

Angela Hastings, an Alpha who owned _British Omega Male Hotties,_ had contacted him that morning, appearing on his doorstep, begging him to take her case. Three of her best Omegas featured on the website had been receiving threatening untraceable emails, and just two days ago, one of them, Emile Courcy, had gone missing. The police had few leads and fewer ideas.

Once he was presentable, dressed again in an impeccably-tailored suit, and armed with the home addresses of the two remaining Omegas possibly in peril, Sherlock set out. He made himself visit Sean Staffwell first, an Omega who went by the pseud, Sunshine95, on the _Omega_ _Hotties_ website. A cab, a train ride, and another cab led him to a smart terraced house just outside of London.

Sean was a classically petite man dressed in a flowing silk pantsuit. He rose to greet Sherlock warmly once his Beta bodyguard ushered him into the sitting room. The space was a riot of coral and peach tones with cushions, rugs, and wall hangings filling every available square inch. Sherlock perched on one of the floral high-backed chairs offered him while his host took another.

Sean simpered and preened as they talked, but all under the careful eye of the burly Beta servant who remained standing by the door. Sherlock gritted his back teeth, ignoring the flirting while the sweet scent of an unbonded Omega muddled with strong perfume assaulted his nose.

“Please tell me about the threatening emails you received.”  Sherlock crossed his legs, and attempted to breathe through his mouth.

“Horrid, horrid things describing all the awful things he wanted to do to me.” Sean shuddered delicately.

“You say he? Did the writer give you any indication that they were male?”

“Well, the user name _was_ BigAlphaCocks. I assumed it was an Alpha. He or she went on about biting and knotting. . . among the more disturbing things.”

“Do you get these sorts of emails often?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“At the _Hotties_ website, of course. Maybe not this violent, but sure, all the time.” The Omega shrugged. “They have people at the office who sort through those. No, these were to my personal address. No one who uses the website has access to that.”

Sherlock grilled him on any friends or acquaintances who might have mental health issues, or some reason to harass him, but Sean could think of no one who fit the bill. Sherlock thanked the Omega for his help, and pulled out his wallet to extract a card with his information.

“If you get any more emails or think of something new, please contact me.” Sherlock held it out between two fingers.

“Of course, thank you." The perfume that the Omega had slathered on his skin rolled over Sherlock as he moved to accept it. His loose top fell open to expose his pectorals with a quick flash of pale, pink nipples as he bent forward.

Sean tucked the card away. "I do hope you find the creep soon . . . and poor Emile." He stood, extending a hand. "Well, I do I wish you the best of luck, sir." 

Sherlock swallowed deeply as his hand closed around the Omega’s palm. It was almost impossibly soft.  Sherlock didn’t have a strong sex drive. It wasn’t something that he thought much about generally, and a simple wank now and again seemed enough to keep the transport humming. As of late though, recent events seemed to be turning things around. Sherlock released the Omega’s hand as soon as politeness allowed.

“I’ll find the culprit. Just be careful when you leave the house, and keep your bodyguard close at hand.”

“But of course.” The man trilled a laugh. “You can’t trust rogue Alphas as far as you can throw them. Give me a bonded Alpha like yourself any day.”

Sherlock wasn’t surprised that Sean seemed to have confused him with a settled Alpha. He took pains to shower twice daily with a wash that tamped down his natural wild scent. Fielding offers from hopeful parents every time he went out in public wasn’t his idea of a good time.

The bodyguard glowered at Sherlock as he showed him to the door. Sherlock paused in the foyer, wanting to give the man a few tips on spotting suspicious people in crowds. Before he could speak though, the man surprised him, grabbing Sherlock's bicep to crowd into his personal space.  He was big for a Beta, a few inches taller than Sherlock himself, and he had to tip his head back slightly to make eye contact.

“I’d watch it, Mr. _Bonded Alpha_. I saw how you were looking at him.” The guard jerked his head toward the sitting room. “You can do your job and keep your eyes and hands to yourself, understand?”

Before Sherlock’s higher brain could react, he let out a growl, deep and low from the back of his throat. The man’s eyes went round and he released Sherlock’s arm to take a step back. He moved quickly, but not quick enough to avoid being shoved against the wall. Sherlock caught the faintest whiff of Omega on the bodyguard at such close range. _Sean._ The Beta had obviously tried to scrub the traces away with a medical-grade soap, but no one had the sensitivity of smell of an unbonded Alpha. The scent was intimate, sexual.

"Watch yourself, _Beta_." 

Alphas often took Beta females as lovers, a few going as far as to be married, but a Beta with an Omega was unheard of. Proper Omegas bonded with an Alpha, and stayed home to joyfully raise their brood. The few who remained single either joined an Omegarry, or eked out an existence at the behest of family members, minding children or taking low-paying office jobs. Precious few Omegas were able to reach the financial independence that the stars of _British Omega Male Hotties_ had achieved.  

“I’ll do my job fine!” Sherlock rumbled, deep and low, trying to settle Alpha instincts that were clamoring at him to make this man submit, preferably on the floor with blood involved. “If you want to keep your Omega safe, keep YOUR damn eyes peeled. I’m not the threat.”

Sherlock grabbed for the door handle, wrenching it open to let himself outside, pulling in lungfuls of fresh air to help clear his mind. God, this case was getting to him in a way that he generally didn’t allow. It seemed he might be due for a wanking session sooner rather than later to bleed off some of the hormones cruising through this veins. Sherlock walked all the way to the train station, taking the tube when he reached London, letting the familiar smells of the city soothe his still slightly jangled nerves.  He closed his eyes on the tube carriage, letting his nose tell him that mostly Betas, but one other Alpha, a bonded one, shared the car with him.

Sherlock opened his eyes to see the tall woman dressed in red. She had a briefcase sandwiched between her feet on the floor as she gripped a bar with one hand, and held the phone she was reading with the other. A bag of Omega ginger sweets, freshly bought, bulged out one pocket of her long coat. Ah, not only bonded, but expecting a pup with her Omega as well. A closer inspection revealed crayon streaks on the side of the briefcase. Not their first child then. The Alpha smiled at something on her screen, then pocketed the device, gathering her things to exit at the next stop. Sherlock felt an almost visceral longing as he watched her leave, visions gripping him of going home to a flat where his own mate and pups waited to greet him. 

Sherlock shook his head wondering where the hell _that_ thought had come from. His lifestyle as a consulting detective didn’t leave much time for either the softer genders or the cloying bonds that domesticity would bring. It wasn’t something he’d even considered wanting in the past.

He could have waited until the next day to call on the second Omega in question, John Watson, but it wasn’t unreasonably late for a visit. Sherlock swung off at the tube stop closest to the man’s address and found himself quickly enough outside a tall residential building. It was in a fairly nice area of town, and posh enough to include a full-time doorman on staff. Sherlock went through a bit of a song and dance, showing his I.D., and having the suspicious Beta call up to John’s flat to approve him before he could even start towards the lifts.

Sherlock found himself becoming unaccountably nervous as he stepped onto the Omega’s floor, a thin film of sweat appearing under his arms. He smoothed back his hair that so often became unruly over the course of a day, and knocked on the right door. The man who opened it was not at all what Sherlock was expecting. He was on the tall side for an Omega, though certainly shorter than Sherlock, and dressed in nothing more fancy than some baggy jeans and a nondescript beige jumper.

“Hi, Mr. Holmes, is it? I’m John. Angela told me you’d be round.”

“Yes, I just need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not, come on in.” John smiled, and held the door open.

Sherlock realized the man was barefoot as he ushered him into his private space, and he couldn’t help staring a bit at the revealed skin as John led him into the living room. The flat held none of the fussy excesses that Sherlock had come to associate with Omegas. It was clean and modern, but certainly not unwelcoming. Done up in earth tones, the furniture was wide and comfortable looking, with a thick tan carpet underneath. The outer wall held a bank of windows that looked down on the rolling green of a nearby park, and the bright streaks of a sunset painting the glass of the buildings across the way. The whole place smelled warm and cozy, like hot buttered scones or his Grandmother’s house by the fire on a rainy day.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Sherlock was going to say no when an image of John stretched out, straining and flushed on a set of navy sheets flashed through his mind. He realized he was going to need a few minutes to pull himself together.

“Ice water will do, thank you.”

“Sure. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

“Of course.” Sherlock nodded.

Sherlock nearly collapsed into a squashy leather armchair, trying desperately to get himself under control. It was embarrassing. Sherlock reminded himself sternly that this man was a professional actor. The videos that he really shouldn’t have indulged in had nothing to do with him personally.  John probably had loads of groupies salivating at him whenever he made appearances. Sherlock worked his way through the periodic table until his surging hormones had quieted down.

“Here you go.” John appeared to hand him a chunky, hand-blown glass filled with square ice cubes and water.

 _Shit._ His eyes were even more beautiful in person, a deep, mysterious blue, something like the ocean at twilight framed by luxuriously long gold-tipped eyelashes. Sherlock swallowed deeply, willing his voice to be steady when he spoke.

“Thank you, so much.” Sherlock took a large gulp of cold water as he watched John settling into a nearby chair with a glass holding something darker. “Thank you also for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Well, it’s a shite thing, isn’t it?  Emile going missing.” John frowned, taking a sip of his drink.  “I mean, I don’t fancy being next.”

“No, of course not. Do you mind if I ask you some personal questions . . . to help the investigation of course.”

“Fire away.” John took another swallow from his glass before setting it on a nearby low table.

“Why don’t you have a body guard?”

“Can’t stand ‘em,” John said. “I like my privacy too much. This place has good security, and I’ve done well here.”

“It’s fine for people who aren’t celebrities.” Sherlock waved a hand. “But you’ve not been targeted before, have you?”

John laughed. “I’d hardly call myself a celebrity, but no, I’ve never gotten emails like this before.”

Sherlock went through a series of questions, when the emails started, how often John received them, and if any of the threats seemed targeted to him personally.

John didn’t have any new information, his harassing emails had also been from _BigAlphaCocks,_ and the threats had been more vague than specific. When Sherlock asked if John had any idea if someone with access to his private email wished him ill, John just shrugged.

“I don’t give out my private address to many people,” John said. “My sister, a couple of friends, work, of course. That’s about it. I asked around at first, thinking it was a joke, but no one knew anything about it.”

“I’m concerned about your safety when you go out.” Sherlock leaned in, a frown creasing his forehead.  “We aren’t completely sure that Emile’s disappearance is connected with these emails, but it’s a reasonable assumption.”

“Look, I get it. You seem like a nice man and I’m sure you’re lovely to your mate, but you’re an Alpha. You’ve got it in your head that Omegas are helpless. I was a medic in the army.” John puffed up proudly. “I’m combat-trained. I can take care of myself.”

“How did you manage to serve in the army?” Sherlock couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

John chuckled darkly. “I was raised as a Beta. I didn’t actually present with a secondary gender until I was twenty-two."

“That’s incredibly unusual.”

“You’re telling me. Scared the shit out of me when I went into heat in the middle of a combat zone.”

There were oceans in what John wasn’t saying. Sherlock swallowed deeply. Just the idea of an Omega in danger twisted something deep inside of him. He wanted to pull John onto his lap, cuddle him close, keep him safe as he stroked down his back.

“That’s unfortunate.” Sherlock winced.

“Look, all that stuff about Omegas being soft, and helpless, it’s a load of rubbish, okay? We might be smaller than Alphas, but we aren’t that different from a number of Betas. It’s how Omegas are raised that make them think they can’t do anything, can’t _be_ anything.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get involved with the _Omega Hotties_ website?”

“I was discharged from the army when I presented.” John reached for his glass, cradling it between his palms. “As you know, it’s illegal for Omegas to serve. I tried working as a nanny for awhile, but it just wasn’t for me. I fell into a depression. I was in a bad place for awhile.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hard.” Sherlock balled his hands into fists to keep him for reaching toward the Omega, the need to offer comfort radiating from his core outward.

 “My psychologist suggested I join an Omega grief support group. I met someone there who worked at the website, and they passed on my information. I went in for an audition and they hired me on the spot.” John huffed a laugh.

“How long have you worked for the site?”

John tapped his lip as he thought a moment. “I think it will be eight years this February." He held his glass up in toast. "The rest, as they say, is history." John took a sip.

“I understand you feel confident in your abilities to defend yourself, but I’m not sure that’s going to be sufficient.”

“I take an Omega-approved taxi service when I need to go somewhere. I don’t stay out alone after dark. I live in a high rise with a security guard downstairs.” John spread his arms. “What more do I need to do?”

“I’d like it if you hired a bodyguard.”

“Not going to happen.” John shook his head stubbornly.

Sherlock blew out a breath in frustration. “I would appreciate it if you would check in with me each evening then, tell me you’re still safe . . . until this deranged individual is caught.” Sherlock fished out his phone. “I’ll give you my phone number and you can text me  . . . if you’re amenable?”

John laughed. “Okay, fine. Fine. I suppose I could manage that.”

“What’s your number? I’ll send you a text.”

John gave him the digits, and Sherlock punched them into his mobile. Shortly after he sent the message, a guitar riff sounded from the nearby kitchen, something bluesy and yearning.

“Nice choice of music.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow

“It’s Paul Weller.” John had a hand pressed against his mouth, hiding a smile.

He was looking at Sherlock as if he enjoyed talking with him, something that didn’t often happen in Sherlock’s line of work. Sherlock wanted to keep talking to John, soaking up the Omega’s beautiful indigo-blue gaze. Alarm bells sounded in his head jolting him back to awareness. _Emotion  . . . sentiment!_   _Pah!_ It was obviously _well_ past time he made an exit.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Watson. If you get anymore emails, or you think of anything else that might help the investigation, please let me know.” Sherlock stowed his phone, bustling himself to his feet.

“Right, yes. I will.” John looked slightly disappointed.

The Omega showed him to the door, and Sherlock tried vainly not to look down, watching John’s bare feet as they moved across the plush carpet.  He couldn’t help tracking their progress as he followed behind.

“Thank you for working on this, Mr. Holmes.” John turned, holding out his hand to shake farewell. “I do appreciate it.”

Sherlock clasped John’s palm in his own. It was a mistake. John’s hand was warm, firm, with slight calluses along his fingers, something that Sherlock longed to give more study. It was John’s subtle body scent though that seemed to wrap Sherlock up in a full body hug, stealing every coherent thought from his head. It was obvious that John used a scent-concealing wash, and was most likely on heat suppressants. Still the faint natural odor that emanated from John’s person was enough to make Sherlock go weak at the knees. The scent of fresh baking, and a warm fire on a chilly day that Sherlock had thought was some kind of air freshener in the room was simply John.

“Yes, of course, good day.” Sherlock extricated himself from John’s grip, and all but fled the man's flat.

 

&&&

 

Sherlock heard a burst of Paul Weller music from his phone, and dived across the room to read the incoming text. 

_Back from dinner with my sister, Nanny_

Sherlock smiled for just a moment before opening the keypad to punch in a reply. Over the last few days, Sherlock had entered into something of an on-going correspondence with John Watson. It had started simply enough with John announcing when he was home at night, but it had quickly expanded to their chatting frequently about a wide range of topics throughout the day.

_Hope the sushi place was as good as I’d heard – SH_

_It was fantastic. Thanks for the recommendation. Harry loved it! (*u*)_

_Any suspicious people at the restaurant? –SH_

_Nope. Just a family celebrating a birthday, and a few couples on a date._

_Are you in for the night? –SH_

_Yeah, just going to do some Yoga and head to bed_

Sherlock tried VERY hard not to picture John in tight-fitting exercise wear stretching over his plush carpet. Damn.

_Alright, good night, then –SH_

_Good night ;)_

His laptop was right nearby. Without thinking too much about it, Sherlock opened the _Omega Hotties_ website, and searched for Johnny101. He scrolled through the thumbnail shots on his page until he found one of John in what looked like a sports club, stretched out on a bench in nothing but a tight pair of jogging shorts. Feeling like a heel, like the lowest of the low, Sherlock clicked the link open.

The video started with John sitting on a bench clad in a white sleeveless top, shorts, and a towel around his neck as if he’d just been exercising.

“God, is it hot in here, or is it just me?” John groaned, running the back of his hand across his forehead. He took the towel off his neck, laying it down on the bench beside him.

“I didn’t think I was that close, but I must have miscounted the weeks.” John picked up a nearby water bottle to pour some of its contents over his face. The water ran in rivulets down his forehead, cheeks and chin to soak into his shirt, making it cling to his chest, going transparent.

“Mmmm. That feels better. I think I need this shirt off though.” John peeled the wet thing off, dragging it over his head ever so slowly. He tossed it somewhere behind, off-camera.

“Oooh, I feel . . .  I feel . . .” John leaned back over the towel, running his hands along himself, caressing his chest and belly all the way to the shorts and back.

 “Yes, it’s  . . _. God_ , it’s my heat.” John writhed on the bench, arching his back as he palmed the small bulge in his shorts.

“I know we just met, but would you help me out? I neeeeeed a big strong Alpha cock to fill my empty hole. God I am SO wet.” The look John shot the camera from half-lidded eyes was downright molten.

“Please?” It came out on a breath of air.

When John’s hands slid down below the waistband of the shorts, Sherlock’s hand flew to unzip his flies. He pushed away any guilt along with the fabric as his hands closed over his achingly hard erection.

 

&&&

 

Sherlock rang the doorbell by the discreet gold plaque reading _Angela Hastings Enterprises_ , and waited for a reply.  He glanced down the grey-carpeted corridor at the nearby offices, a dentist and an accounting firm, and snorted. It was doubtful that any of them had the first idea that a thriving Omega porn business sat next door to them. When the receptionist greeted him through the intercom on the wall, Sherlock announced himself, and was promptly buzzed in.

The antechamber of the headquarters for _British Omega Male Hotties_ was a nondescript space, decorated with the same bland art and padded chairs that any office might enjoy. Even the few rooms directly adjacent were bog standard, holding desks, computers and phones, and corkboards with pictures of loved ones, and to-do lists. Only the inner rooms told a different story. A plethora of sybaritic pleasures could be found amidst lavish dressing rooms, a shower and hot tub area, a well-stocked green room, and several recording studios packed with enough props, frippery, and sex toys to approximate any number of fantastic locales.  

“Tea, Mr. Holmes?” The trim Beta female behind the desk offered.

“Please.”

He wasn’t particularly thirsty, but it gave him something to do as he lurked about the place. Sherlock had made a bit of a nuisance of himself interviewing all the actors, office staff, and infrequent visitors over the last few days.

“Good morning,” Sherlock greeted several of the admin staff as he made his way through to the back.

“Morning,” Brian, the male Beta techie who ran the website, grunted in reply. He was unmarried, but lived with a Beta girlfriend and her two cats.

Kristin, the only female Omega in the office, who covered the social media, and correspondence, merely looked up and nodded. She was a rare creature, an Omega working even after bonding. Sadly her Alpha had taken ill, and she’d gone back to a previous position to make ends meet. She had two young children, and looked simply exhausted.

Angela’s bond-mate, a sweet Omega named Mirabelle, had made an appearance one morning, bringing home-made muffins to pass out to the office. She’d given Kristin a look somewhere between pity and contempt.

“Hey there, Mr. Holmes, still hot on the trail for clues?” Mona, an older single Beta who did the accounting, greeted him more energetically.

“Don’t you know it.” He summoned a friendly wink for her as he passed.

Sherlock made himself comfortable in the green room, opening his phone to peruse his mail as he sipped his tea, waiting for the other employees to trickle in for the day. There was one vid star, a male Alpha who been out on holiday for several days that Sherlock hadn’t had a chance to interview yet. He was due back in, and Sherlock hoped to have a nice chat with him.

 _Omega Hotties_ employed a shifting number of Omegas to star in its videos, but only three Alphas. As infertility was one of the top requirements, few Alphas were eligible to apply for the job. The two Alpha’s he’d already interviewed were comfortably middle aged, and had agreed to the indignity of a vasectomy, but the third who’d been on holiday, a younger chap, had contracted mumps at an early age.

“Well, good morning, Mr. Holmes. Hope you slept well last night?” A young Omega male named Ronny came to drape himself over the chair closest to Sherlock, a croissant half and cup of tea in hand. He had on a slinky dressing gown that only barely managed to stay tied.

“Yes, thank you.” Sherlock glanced very briefly his way before returning to the fascinating spam ad on his phone.

 “Did you solve it yet? Do you know where Emile is?” Charles, another stunningly-attractive twink of a thing appeared to sidle up to Sherlock’s other side. He was dressed in something that looked like harem pants and a filmy bejeweled top that kept slipping off one shoulder.

“I promise, I will let you all know when I solve the case,” Sherlock gritted, doing his best to ignore the rising smell of interested Omega permeating the room. It was overly-sweet and cloying and made him gulp more of his tea to cleanse some of the taste from his mouth.

A fresh wave of Alpha scent bullied its way in, scattering the Omega haze as Angela Hastings strode in. “Don’t you two have sessions this morning?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

The young Omegas ducked their heads and scurried quickly out of the room.

“Sherlock.” Angela faced him, frowning. “I know you need to interview people, but can you not stir up the Meggies so much?”

“I’m drinking tea in the corner.” Sherlock raised innocent eyebrows.

“God.” Angela sank into a convenient armchair. “They can’t help it, I know. It’s in their nature to flock around any nearby Alpha that smells half-way fertile.”

“I assure you, I am engaging with none of them beyond my initial questions.” Sherlock thought quickly of John Watson, and realized what a bald-faced lie that was.

“Look, this can’t go on much longer.” She sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “Are you close? I’ve had three Omegas cancel today because they’re scared to come into work.”

“I promise I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow.” Sherlock nodded.

“Good. I can’t wait to put all this mess behind us.”

Sherlock smelled John long before he entered the room. Sherlock was alone, nursing his second cup of tea when the older Omega came in, making a beeline for the food station.

“Sherlock, hey, I thought that was you.”

Sherlock was momentarily gobsmacked. John was wearing army camo bottoms, laced up boots, and a khaki-coloured tee shirt that hugged every last curve of his chest and arms like a second skin. Sherlock watched, utterly mesmerized as John helped himself to a cup of tea, grabbed a banana, and moved to a nearby chair.

“Erm, John, hello,” Sherlock managed to gulp out.

“How’s the investigation today?”

Chiding himself, Sherlock quickly gathered his not-insubstantial wits about him.

“I have one last person to interview and then I believe I’ll be done here.”

“Ah, so soon?” A creased formed between John’s eyebrows.

“It’s taken me much longer than usual,” Sherlock said, wishing the case could go on even longer, forever perhaps.

“Well, it will be good to get things wrapped up. To think someone here might be dangerous!”

“I can assure you that while someone here is involved, none of them are dangerous. At least not to you.”

“Ah, good to know.” John looked puzzled. “So, you can’t tell me anything more specific?”

“I’m sorry, John, I don’t want to compromise the investigation until things are nailed down.”

“Okay, I understand.” John took a sip of his tea before setting it aside to eat the banana.

Sherlock couldn’t help watching as John’s small, competent-looking hands peeled away the outside skin.

“You never told me how you got into being a detective. Interesting career path for an Alpha.”

“Really, how so?”

John slid the banana into his mouth, biting off the tip. Sherlock felt mesmerized just watching John’s jaw as he chewed.

“It’s not dangerous, or flashy. I thought Alphas went in for race car drivers, pop stars, running companies.” John waved a hand around to indicate the office.

“I assure you, the job has its moments.”

“Oooh, you have to tell me now.”

Thankfully John had finished with the banana, setting the peel aside to curl his hand around his tea, and Sherlock was no longer so distracted. He enjoyed telling John about a past case where he had to jump from a bridge and swim across the Thames to avoid being shot.

“God, how did your bond-mate take that, or weren’t you together then?” John leaned in, elbow to his knee, almost on the edge of his seat.

“Oh, no. I wasn’t bonded.”

“What else? Tell me another. That can’t be your only crazy adventure.”

A few people wandered in to get tea or a snack, but the men completely ignored them, in their own little bubble as Sherlock told John about an investigation that had him in disguise, sleeping with the homeless for a few weeks. That one wasn’t quite as dangerous, and had quite a funny ending involving ladies’ knickers on a line, an escaped goat from a petting zoo, and his brother’s town car. John laughed uproariously, nearly wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh, John, Mr. Holmes, care for some more tea?” The accountant, Mona, stood by the bench, holding the kettle aloft. Sherlock felt quite parched at that point, and agreed for the both of them.

Once they had new cups of tea in hand, Sherlock launched off on another toe-curling tale, this one a case that had him hanging off a building by his fingertips, swinging into an open window to get to some key evidence. He’d cracked a smuggling ring that time, but not before he nearly cracked his head open.

“God, that’s amazing.” John’s twilight eyes were shining beacons, pulling Sherlock far, far out to sea.

“Thank you.” Sherlock felt something warm and unexpected glowing under his breastbone.

 “Well, Sherlock I take it back, being a detective is obviously _quite_ flashy and dangerous.” John shook his head. “I don’t know how your mate stands it.”

 “Erm, well . . .” Sherlock trailed off uncomfortably. “It comes with the job.” He shrugged.

“I can see that. I had a few dicey moments in Afghanistan, let me tell you . . .”

“Please do.”

“What, really?” John looked surprised.

Hey, I told you mine!” Sherlock looked mock offended.

“Well, okay then . . .”

John shared several tales of his time in the army, both terrifying and touching, and Sherlock leaned in, soaking in every word. He’d almost forgotten that John had every right to wear the army outfit he had on, that it wasn’t just a costume. Sherlock was utterly transported by John’s stories, whisked away to the stomping of boots, the ululation of calls to prayer, blood on hot baked sand, and the silhouette of cold mountains on the other side of the globe.

 John had a way with storytelling, using funny voices for other people, and waving his hands around to punctuate key moments. Being a natural actor was obviously a talent that had served him well in his vid career. Sherlock could have listened to him for hours he thought when a Beta male with a clipboard broke the spell, popping his head in the door.

“Johnny, you’re up! Room four is ready.”

“Yeah, Gary thanks,” John called over his shoulder. “I’ll be right there.”

Sherlock frowned, wishing they had just a few more minutes alone.

“Well, guess that’s enough wool-gathering today. God, that stuff is such ancient history by now.”  John ran a hand back through his hair. “Time to go make a living.”

“Oh, of course.” Sherlock couldn’t stop the bitter disappointment that trickled through him when he realized that John was off to make a porn video. Somehow he had come to separate the sexy Omega on the vids he watched alone at night, and the funny, intelligent man he’d been having an on-going conversation with for the better part of a week.

 “Listen, if I don’t get to see you again, it was really a pleasure meeting you.” John stood, extending his hand. “I hope you catch the bastard behind all this.”

For a moment Sherlock was shocked. The notion that he might not see John again wasn’t something he had actually entertained. He stood, dwarfing John as he rose to his full height. Somehow when they’d been sitting down, it hadn’t seemed important that he was so much taller.

“John . . .” Sherlock didn’t know what to say. He clasped John’s hand, letting his thumb stroke over the back of it. It was more of a caress than a handshake. “Perhaps we could continue texting when this is over?”

A look of great sadness washed over John’s face for just a moment. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea, do you?” he said softly.

“No, I suppose not . . .”

Wait. What in the _world_ was Sherlock saying? He wasn’t actually bonded to anyone else, it was all just a ruse to smooth the way for his investigations. Sherlock struggled to make his tongue work to tell John he was a free man . . .

“Johnny, now, please. We’re all ready to go.” The Beta’s tone had gotten a bit snippy.

“Right, Good-bye.” With a nod, John was off down the corridor after Gary and his clipboard.

 

&&&

 

Somehow Sherlock continued his investigation even though images of John making love to large silicon toys just down the hall plagued his mind. He was able to interview the last Alpha in his dressing room, a disarmingly pretty man named Steven. Although he played hard and loose with the truth, Sherlock tripped him up and finally got the information he was looking for.  Sherlock left Steven weeping in his make-up chair as he swept into the corridor, confident that he’d have a full report for Angela in the morning. He spied the Beta named Gary again, and stopped him, asking after John. The man informed him that the Omega had already finished for the day and gone home.

Sherlock made his way outside, too restless to go home himself. He ended up walking around the city, stopping to buy some fish and chips and eating them on a bench overlooking the river. He was surprised when his phone burst out a Paul Weller riff in his pocket. _John_. Sherlock scrambled to pull his phone out in time to answer it.

“Hey, it’s John. Listen, I didn’t want to bother you, but you said to contact you if anything strange happened. I found another threatening note, only this time it wasn’t email, someone shoved it into my rucksack.”

“I’m on my way.” Sherlock was up and running before he’d even finished speaking.

The security guard at John’s building remembered him, and waved Sherlock cheerfully on which he was grateful for. He doubted he would have had the patience to suffer through any song and dance that evening. As it was, Sherlock could hardly wait for the lift to move fast enough, finally depositing him at John’s floor. In an instant he was rapping at John’s door, near panicking. Perhaps he’d been wrong?

John opened the door looking slightly ill, a shine over his forehead. He smelled a bit off as well. Sherlock bustled past him into the flat feeling more concerned than ever. First things first though.

“Letter?” he said imperiously, holding out his hand.

“Yeah, it’s here.” John moved to grab the creased bit of paper from a side table, thrusting it at Sherlock.

Sherlock quickly brought up the emails that Angela had forwarded him on his phone, things from the mysterious BigAlphaCocks, and compared the sentence structure to the new letter.

“ . . . uppity Omega think you’re too good for a big Alpha cock to own you, fucking around like the slut you are . . . blah, blah, blah . . . I’d teach you a lesson . . . blah, blah, blah . . .”

Oh, thank God. It was a match. No one new had joined the game. Sherlock collapsed into a puffy armchair in relief.

“It’s fine, John. It’s the same person. This is just a swan song. She knows she’s going down.”

“She?” John rubbed at his forehead. “She who?” His eyes looked glassy.

“Mona.”

“What the accountant from work? She was sending these sick emails? She kidnapped Emile?”

“Nooo,” Sherlock batted the idea away.

He was feeling unaccountably warm, and he stood to shed his coat and jacket, letting them fall to the floor. John stared at his throat, all of a sudden entranced with the bit of skin visible above Sherlock's opened top button.

“Well, she _was_ sending the emails, but she had nothing to do with Emile’s absence.”

“But why? Mona always seemed so nice.” John moved to a nearby chair, sinking heavily to the cushions.

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Sherlock nodded. “Who knows. Jealousy? Anger at not getting a raise from Angela? She can tell her story in court.”

“But what about Emile? I’m confused.” John tugged at his own collar as if it chafed him. With an exasperated sigh, he yanked open several buttons. Now it was Sherlock’s turn to stare at John’s bared chest. His skin was the lovely golden hue he remember so well from all his clandestine wanking sessions with the _Omega Hotties_ website. The idea that the man in the videos might actually be here in the room with him finally hit home with Sherlock. He swallowed deeply, and tried to focus on what John was asking him.

“Oh Emile, right. Well, that was easy enough to figure out. That Alpha at the office who took a week's holiday, Steven? It turns out he wasn’t taking a trip with his bond-mate like he told everyone. He told _her_ he was working on location all the while he was actually in Cornwall waiting to rendezvous with Emile. They’d set it up weeks ago. Seems Steven promised Emile he’d dissolve his bond to mate with him.”

“No!” John looked shocked.

It was rare, but occasionally mated Alpha and Omega pairs chose to take drugs to dissolve their chemical bond. It was a painful process, but those desperate enough to escape a bad situation were willing to try anything.

“After a week of shagging Emile to his heart’s content, and stringing him along with talks of a bond, he simply returned to his bond-mate and his job at _Omega Hotties_. I got him to confess to the whole sodding thing.”

“So where’s Emile, then?” John peered at Sherlock as if he were having trouble seeing him clearly.

“Most likely still licking his wounds at the holiday villa, too embarrassed to talk to any of his friends or coworkers yet. He’ll probably resurface when his funds get low.” Sherlock shrugged.

“That’s horrible. God, I knew Steven was an Alpha knob, but that’s really low – even for him.” John dragged both of his hands through his hair. “Poor Emile. He’s such a tender-hearted thing. Fucking Alpha.”

“John, you know we’re not all bad. Not all Alphas are . . .” Sherlock searched around for the right word and lost his train of thought. It hit him what the odd smell was about John. He crossed the room suddenly to drop to his knees before John. The lovely baked scones and warm fire scent still emanated from his skin, but mixed in with it lay the very wrong, sharp notes of another _Alpha_.

“John, have you been touching an Alpha?” Sherlock meant to speak calmly but it came out more like a growl.

“Touching an Alpha, are you serious? I was shagging one six ways to Sunday this afternoon for a new video,” John spat angrily.

“What?” Sherlock shivered. He closed his eyes and inhaled more deeply. He could almost place the individual who had left his scent smeared across John’s skin now that he focused more closely. One of the older Alpha men at _Omega Hotties_ , James he’d been called. God, he’d been ex-military too, hadn’t he? Sherlock felt like throwing up. “But I thought you only did the solo videos.”

“You were watching my videos?” John looked pale. “Spying on me? Sherlock, I thought we were friends.”

“We were, we are . . . I didn’t mean to go through them, I was doing research, and then . . .”

 . . . _and then I met you and fell in love with you_ Sherlock couldn’t say. The words died in his throat as John gaped at him, horrified.

“I didn’t think you did couple vids.” Sherlock finished lamely.

“Sherlock, I am a sex worker. It’s how I make my living. It’s how I can afford all this.” John gestured to his cozy, tasteful flat. “I’d either still be living in someone’s spare room, minding their children, or dead from blowing my brains out if I hadn’t found that damn job.”

“John, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to judge you.” Sherlock felt muddled, horribly confused. He blinked trying to bring John into better focus, lovely, beautiful . . . furious John. Sherlock wanted to cry.

“At least all I do is fuck Alphas for a living instead of handing my soul over to one. I have the freedom to live my own life . . . not enslaved to some pompous . . . God, is it hot in here?” John left off his rant to tug his shirt further open.

 “Perhaps something’s wrong with the heating.” Sherlock had to admit he was feeling rather warm himself.

“Yeah, let me check the thermostat.” John stood upright, brushing past Sherlock to stumble toward the hall.

Sherlock felt as though he might die if he didn’t apologize properly to John. He crawled along on all fours until he reached John peering at the display across the panel on the wall. Surging up to his knees, Sherlock threw his arms around John’s thighs to press close, a movement that had the added advantage of bringing his face in line with John’s lovely rear.

“Sherlock . . . what in the world . . .” John slapped his palms against the wall to remain upright.

Sherlock rubbed his face over John, pressing his nose into the seat of his trousers, trying to get as close to John’s lovely smell as he could. John’s natural scent seemed to be increasing, thankfully overshadowing the lingering wisps of _other_.

“Oh. My. God.” John was trembling against him, barely holding himself upright. “Fuck,” he breathed out, dropping his head down between his braced arms.

“Yes, please,” Sherlock murmured, attempting to lick his way through the fabric of John’s trousers, moving toward the slick that had begun pooling between John’s thighs, darkening his trousers’ inseams.

“Sherlock, we can’t . . .” John gasped as Sherlock nipped at the side of his arse cheek, trying desperately to bite through several layers.

Somehow Sherlock eased John down to the ground, turning him around so that might crawl over him, licking wherever he found bared skin, up John’s chest through the parted shirt front, over his neck, along his jaw, over his face. When their lips made contact, Sherlock thought he might have died and gone to heaven. It was nearly incandescent, kissing, tasting, licking deeply into John’s mouth. John was as delicious as he smelled. John whimpered and thrust his hands into Sherlock’s hair, holding on tightly as he kissed back, arching up against him as best he could.

“Sheerrrl . . . Oh GOD. It’s a heat. I’m going into heat,” John choked out as Sherlock moved to gnaw down his neck.

“Oh, that would explain . . .” Sherlock got out before he forgot what words were, and casually ripped John’s shirt open the rest of the way so he could mouth down his belly, buttons pinging around the room as they went flying.

“Off, off, please,” John gasped, writhing on the floor in desperate plea as Sherlock reached his waistband.

“Yes,” Sherlock rumbled, making a shred of John’s trousers as he ripped them off his body.

Somehow Sherlock managed to pull his own clothes away as well and finally, finally they were pressing skin to skin, nothing left between them. A full body shudder went over them both as they wrapped limbs tightly around each other.

“Oh,” John squeaked, burying his face in Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock wanted to pet John, keep him safe, hold him forever. He wanted to kiss every inch of him, move down and thrust his face into the slick currently pouring from John’s entrance to wet the thigh he had jammed between his legs, drinking down his nectar in great mouthfuls. He also wanted to roll John over, arse in the air, and take his erection currently throbbing painfully against John’s warm belly and jam it so far up inside John, they both lost their minds. Sherlock settled for clutching John close and whimpering.

“Shh, shhh, it’s alright.” John stroked a soothing hand down his back. “God, Sherlock.” John pressed tender kisses along Sherlock’s throat.

“Please, please . . .” Sherlock was near keening, no longer even aware of what he was saying.

“Yes, baby, yes,” John crooned.

They moved instinctually until John was on all fours, and Sherlock was nudging up behind him, his large Alpha cock, nearly purple as it bumped against John, dragging through the wet sliding down his thighs.

_Yes, yes, yes, yes . . ._

 It only took a movement or two, John tilting his pelvis back, and Sherlock angling up, and _God_ , his cock slid home, impaling John on its length.

Time left him, edges left him, consciousness nearly left him as Sherlock moved, rocking into the hot, slick, center that gripped, and caressed him, bringing pleasure that rippled through him in hard, undulating waves. He could feel his knot swelling, locking him against John's impossibly soft walls. The feeling engulfed him completely. When the haze finally cleared and Sherlock could think a bit, he found he was lying on his side on John’s foyer rug, curled around John’s body, the two of them locked together as his full knot kept them tightly bound.

John smelled amazing, sweetly warm, and salty, sleepy like Saturday morning with nowhere to go. Sherlock groaned, burying his face against the damp strands of hair plastered to John’s nape, inhaling deeply. John roused as he nuzzled at him, kissing and licking over John’s neck in an instinctual need to groom and soothe.

John sighed, reaching up to hang onto Sherlock’s arms locked over his chest. “God, that was amazing . . . I didn’t know it could feel like that,” he said quietly.

“John, I love you,” Sherlock sighed, wriggling just a tiny bit closer as if an atom of air between their bodies was too much.

John huffed a laugh, a quiet, broken sound. “That’s just the hormones talking.”

“No, loved you before, too.” Sherlock insisted, nosing further at the scent glands along the base of John’s neck where it sloped into his shoulder, raking his teeth over the spot ever so gently. “Mine,” he whispered dropping wet kisses along John’s neck. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Sherlock.” John tried to crane his head around to see him, but it was impossible, they were too tightly locked. “Please, think a moment. What happened? What about your bond-mate? God, I can’t . . .” John sounded terrible, his muscles tightening.

John upset was not acceptable. Sherlock lowered a hand, groping down to rub calming circles over John’s belly. John sighed, and relaxed, tension melting from his body. The hand slipped even lower to stroke over John’s lovely small Omega cock, and John groaned, something primal and gorgeous, rumbling out from the back of his throat. Sherlock smiled into John’s hair as he set up a rhythm, stroking and twisting over his shaft until John quivered and cried out, coming utterly apart. The sensation as his entrance pulsed around Sherlock’s trapped cock was exquisite. Sherlock gasped for air.

“Oh m’gawd,” John slurred when it was finally over, sounding drugged. “That was . . . oooh.” John sighed obviously giving up on putting words to whatever magic they were sharing between them.  It was quite some time of floating together in bliss before Sherlock’s knot finally shrank down enough for them to roll apart.

John turned so that he could face Sherlock. He reached up to lay a palm along his check. “Oh, you beautiful man,” he whispered. “If only you could truly be mine.”

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed taking John’s palm and laying a kiss to it. “Yours.”

“But, Sherlock, your bond-mate.” His eyes held a world of pain.

“John, there is no bond-mate.” It seemed ludicrous that he hadn’t had this conversation with John yet. “I was single, alone before you.”

“But you smelled . . .”

“Did you actually smell an Omega on me?”

“Oh, I thought . . .” John frowned, an adorable crease forming between his brows.

Sherlock had to lean closer to lay a kiss to it. “I used a concealing body wash. It kept things simple, made my work easier.”

“Oh. OH.” John was on him in an instant, pushing Sherlock onto his back to climb over him. John left frantic kisses over Sherlock’s face, hands patting over him, stroking, mapping, learning, until his cock rose again, and John climbed on, sinking down with a sigh. They quickly built up a rhythm, John rising and falling as Sherlock pressed up, short breaths and the slaps of flesh filling the small foyer space until the pleasure rose over them, pulling them down to warm, sweet oblivion again.

The next time they roused, full dark had fallen around them, the flat lit only by a lamp left on in the sitting room. Together they stumbled to the kitchen, giggling, filling cups from the tap and drinking it down in great draughts.

“God, I’m starving,” John gasped, opening the fridge door completely unconcerned at his nudity, and the drying fluids smeared across his skin.

“Mmmm, I want _you_.” Sherlock crowded in behind John to nuzzle behind his ear. His scent was simply fascinating.

“I’m serious, we only have a few minutes until it all starts again.” John sighed at Sherlock’s lips ghosting along the back of his neck.

“Oh, right.” Sherlock gave John a lingering hug around the middle, then helped him pull things from the fridge to throw sandwiches together.

“I don’t understand what happened.” John said between bites. They stood over the sink shoveling in ham, cheese and pickle. “I’ve been on suppressants and birth control for years. I haven’t had a heat since the army.”

“The tea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. The accountant, Mona, gave us tea this morning. She obviously put something in it that chemically triggers a heat or a rut. Morphazine most likely.”

“Jesus Christ. That bitch!” John looked thunderous. “When did you realize she was BigAlphaCocks?”

“Oh, first day Angela hired me, really.”  Sherlock flipped a careless hand. “Mona was routing her mail through the back end of a server in Sweden to avoid tracing, but I had a hacker friend follow the trail. It led right to her machine at the _Omega Hotties_ office.”

 “You found that out first day, and you didn’t say anything?” John frowned.

“Well, I still had the case of Emile to solve.” Sherlock looked sheepish. “Plus, I was enjoying talking with you so much. I couldn’t bear to end the case too soon.”

John blushed. “I enjoyed talking with you too. God, I felt like such a lowlife chatting up a bonded Alpha . . . you arse.” He reached up to pull Sherlock into a smoldering kiss.

“Wait . . . but you knew Mona was to blame when you let her feed us _tea_ today?” John pulled back much to Sherlock's disappointment.

“I admit, I wasn’t thinking very clearly, I’m sorry. She was probably trying to distract me while she fled . . . speaking of which . . .”

Sherlock scrambled to the living room to find his clothes, patting down the piles of fabric until he found his phone. In an instant, he had sent key texts to Angela Hastings, the police, and his brother. He sighed, at least THAT was done. Now back to the important things. Sherlock turned to find John behind him, grinning up at him with soft eyes.

“God, you’re amazing,” John breathed.

It was like having heat lightning crackle up his spine. Sherlock scooped John into his arms, bringing him closer to nuzzle under his jaw. John giggled beautifully.

“John, where is your bedroom?” Sherlock asked softly.

“Second door on the left.” John pointed down the corridor.

Sherlock carried him carefully down the hall, pushing open the door to reveal a corner room with windows on two walls, and a huge plush bed covered in fat, colourful pillows. He set John down in the center as though he were infinitely fragile, crawling in beside him, to pull him up against his body. They lay together, breathing in each other’s combined scent, just enjoying the wonder of skin on skin, and the nearness of their beloved.

“John,” Sherlock whispered against John’s forehead. “I’m so grateful to be lying here with you right now, you’ve no idea, but I’m so sorry your right to chose was taken from you.” He pulled back to bring John’s eyes into view. “I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

“Thank you.” John swallowed. “When I went into heat in Afghanistan, I had no idea what was going on. I had three Alphas pounce on me in a vehicle. They took turns holding me down . . .” John closed his eyes. “I thought they were my friends.”

“John, God, I’m so sorry.” Sherlock gathered John even closer, cradling him in his arms, rocking him softly. “If I could go back in time, I’d rip their throats out.”

John huffed out a sob as Sherlock pressed tender kisses along his hairline. Eventually, John tipped his face back, seeking out Sherlock’s mouth. Their lips found each other, softly at first, sliding, teasing, building until their caresses reached an inferno, and they were clinging tightly, drinking each other down like starving men.

Their next round of mating was no less intense, but infinitely more tender, each caress, each stroke, each bitten-off cry part of the love story they were building between them. Sherlock was the one who broke down and cried as John rode on top of him a second time.

“Shhh, love it’s okay.” John shuddered in ecstasy over him.

When they could finally separate, Sherlock’s knot shrinking down again to let John slip free, John scrambled to reach him, dropping infinitely sweet kisses over Sherlock’s face, licking the tears away.

Sometime in the night, as Sherlock mounted John from behind, sliding into his velvet entrance, trying to get closer, ever closer as John moaned his name, dark and low, he had an overwhelming urge to bite John on the back of the neck. He could see himself sinking his teeth into the fragile skin there, John's taste flooding his mouth as their natural chemicals created a bond that would keep them locked even when their bodies grew tired and had to part. With a herculean effort, he turned his face aside, pressing his cheek against John’s shoulder, holding on for dear life as they thundered together. 

It was two more days before the heat finally passed. Sherlock blinked awake in the thin light of dawn, and surveyed the mess of the living room around them. They were sprawled over cushions on the floor, tangled in a sheet they’d drug in from the bedroom. John looked exhausted, circles under his eyes, and red marks from Sherlock’s teeth, and finger nails, and beard stubble left as souvenirs across his skin. He looked infinitely precious.

John opened his eyes. “Erm . . . good morning.”

“John,” Sherlock breathed, nearly overwhelmed to be waking up beside this gorgeous, perfect man.

 “Well, so. That happened.” John forced a chuckle.

An icy trickle of fear skittered down Sherlock’s spine.

“John, I’m so sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted. I can go.” Sherlock made to sit up.

John reached out to stop him. “No, don’t you dare go anywhere.” John pulled him into his arms. Sherlock allowed himself to be manhandled until his face was flush against John’s chest, his curls mashed under John’s chin.

“That might not be how I planned on getting together with the love of my life,” John spoke into Sherlock’s hair, “but I’m beyond thrilled to be here with you. I love you, you silly man.”

“I love you too,” Sherlock sighed, the relief that flooded him a giddy, heady thing.

“Oh, I could murder breakfast. There’s an all-you-can eat buffet down the street calling my name. Care to join me?” John pulled back to better look at Sherlock.

“I’d love to.” Sherlock smiled hugely.

“Oh, you, you gorgeous man.”  John kissed Sherlock quite thoroughly before plunging his nose against Sherlock's neck to inhale deeply. "God you smell fantastic, like . . . spice cake, or the woods after rain . . . and me. God, I'm all over you."

"Ummm, yes," Sherlock burbled happily.

“Ugh, look at this place, what a wreck.” John sat up to run a hand through his hair, trying to flatten the mess that stuck up in every direction. Sherlock wished he would stop, he thought it was adorable.

“What day is it even? I was due on Thursday for a shoot . . .” John trailed off looking alarmed.

“John, I’m sorry. I know you can’t work at _Omega Hotties_ if you’re with someone.” Sherlock sat up drawing his knees to his chest. “I didn’t mean to come between you and your career . . .”

“No, stop.” John held up a hand. “It’s okay. _Omega Hotties_ was just a way to pay the bills, it wasn’t anything like a career. It’s fine. I was thinking of retiring soon anyway. It’s just . . . God. What will I do with myself now?” John glanced around a flat that could soon become a cage.

“John, I know this is sudden, and you’re free to say no, but I could use an assistant in my line of work. Your military and medical training could come in handy . . .” Sherlock trailed off at the odd look on John’s face. “What?”

John pounced on Sherlock, pushing him back over the carpet as he straddled his hips, bending over him to search his face.

“What come on cases with you? Climbing buildings? Dodging bullets? Catching the baddies?”

Sherlock chuckled, something deep and low that bounced John where he leaned across his chest.

“Well, I’d rather we cut out the ‘dodging bullets’ part, but, yes, essentially.”

“I’d love to.” John’s grin was bright enough to light the room.

Sherlock reached up to lay a hand to John’s beautiful, wonderful face, barely able to process his good fortune. John reached up, laying his own hand over Sherlock’s.

“John, it’s completely your choice as well, but perhaps on your next heat, we might consider . . . bonding?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” His eyes fairly sparkled.

John’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, punctuated their matching smiles.

“But first, breakfast,” John said.

“Breakfast,” Sherlock agreed.

They helped each other up, groaning at sore muscles and rug burn on their knees to stumble toward John’s shower. It was a huge affair with multiple shower heads, and Sherlock moaned with pleasure at the warm water cascading over him. They took turns soaping each other up, a process that might have taken all morning if they weren’t perishing from hunger.

In the lobby, John stopped to speak to the security guard, introducing Sherlock as his new mate, and letting him know he’d be a new resident in the building. When Sherlock had described his flat as a little hole in the wall on Montague street, they’d agreed John’s place was the better residence to keep.

“Congratulations, sir,” the guard exclaimed, wishing them all the happiness.

“Thank you.” John blushed.

Sherlock felt more than happy as they exited the building. He felt like he was walking on rainbows and bubbles as they continued down the street to the nearby café. John reached out to take his hand, and Sherlock felt his chest swell with pride. Out of all the Alphas John could have picked, he’d chosen _him_ to be by his side. It wasn’t just astounding, it was a dream come true.  

“Where do you think we might honeymoon?” John asked. “I quite thought Spain might be nice.”

“Ugh, Spain? What about Norway. It’s so much cooler there.”

“Norway? What, with the fjords? Maybe. How about France?”

“Perhaps. I have family there.” Sherlock wrinkled his nose.

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about them.”

Although Sherlock usually hated tedious conversation, he found he couldn’t wait to tell John everything about his life, and listen to everything John had to say in return. He was certain his grin was a stupid, loopy thing as they pushed through the restaurant door, and he couldn’t have cared less.

 

 ~~ THE END ~~

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are taken home, wined and dined, shown off to everyone, and cherished forever!


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